Alice closed the file and emailed it to her work account. On Monday, she’d open it at the office, print it, stamp it, and submit the report. Done! Freedom at last.
She worked as an accountant for a small company in London. The workload was heavy, but the pay was decent, and the office was just a short walk from her flat—no need to squeeze onto the tube during rush hour. A stroll to work, a bit of fresh air.
The accounting team was all women. She wasn’t particularly close with anyone. Most had families, kids, while Alice was single. If anyone asked her to help or take over their tasks, she never refused—even if it meant working late or on weekends, like now.
She got up early on Saturday, double-checked everything, and sent the file. Time to freshen up, have breakfast, and then… She didn’t get to finish that thought—her phone rang.
“Alice, hi!” chirped a cheerful voice on the other end.
“Hi,” Alice answered cautiously. “Who is this?”
“Oh, come on! It’s me, Emma!”
“Emma?” Alice echoed, skeptical. “You’re in London?”
“Not yet, almost there,” Emma laughed.
Alice didn’t know what to say. Of all people, she least expected to hear from her old school friend. Not after the betrayal fifteen years ago. She wished she’d changed her number.
“Alice, you’re the only one I know here,” Emma broke the silence. “Can you meet me? Please. I’ve divorced Tom ages ago. Time for a fresh start.” Her voice sounded muted, guilty.
Alice didn’t want to see her ex-best friend. But so much time had passed—she’d moved on. And she *was* curious about news from back home. Fine. She’d meet her, help her get settled, then be done with it.
“What time’s your train?” she asked flatly.
“Twenty minutes. You’ll come?” Emma’s voice brightened.
“It’ll take me an hour—bus, then the tube. Wait in the main hall. Don’t wander off.” Alice barely believed she was agreeing.
“I’ll wait,” Emma promised.
Alice sighed at the cold kettle, washed up quickly, threw on some makeup, dressed, and left. Her tiny one-bed flat in a London suburb was modest but affordable.
Inside the station, Alice hesitated. How would she spot Emma in this crowd? She hadn’t seen her in fifteen years—would she even recognize her? She walked through the hall, staying visible.
“Alice!” A voice rang out.
Emma, unmistakable yet changed, hurried over from the kiosks. She’d put on weight, lightened her hair, and heavy makeup aged her, but Alice knew her instantly.
Emma hugged her tightly. “Finally! I’m knackered.” She tugged Alice toward her luggage—a wheeled suitcase and a bulky bag.
“You can’t just leave these lying around,” Alice said, grasping for words.
“No one nicked them, did they? Anyway, my money and docs are safe.” Emma glanced down at her ample chest.
Alice shook her head. No one around seemed to care.
Emma stacked her bag on the suitcase and looked at Alice expectantly.
“Where do you need to go?” Alice sighed.
“You’re still cross with me? Listen… Could I crash at yours for a few days? Just till I find a place?” Emma bit her lip.
*The audacity. Stole my boyfriend, now wants to freeload. Should’ve ignored her call.*
“Let’s go,” Alice muttered, heading for the exit.
Emma chattered, but Alice stayed quiet, pretending to focus on navigating the crowd. Emma eventually fell silent, huffing behind her.
“I thought you’d live in central London. This doesn’t even feel like the city,” Emma said, disappointed, when they reached the flat. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a place soon. You live alone? There’s men’s slippers by the door.”
*Should’ve hidden those.* “Just for guests,” Alice lied.
Emma flopped onto the sofa, stretching her legs. “I’m in London! Still can’t believe it.”
Alice made tea, pulled bread and ham from the fridge, and started on sandwiches.
“Got any wine? Let’s toast to reuniting,” Emma suggested.
Alice fetched a half-finished bottle and two glasses.
Emma drank freely, ignoring Alice’s barely touched wine, launching into her story: She and Tom divorced soon after marrying—handsome but terrible temper. Her second husband was older, but she’d married him for money. Cheated on him with his driver, got kicked out. The divorce drained her, but she had savings now. Time for a new life in London.
“You were smart to leave right after college. Nothing but boredom back home.”
Alice hadn’t *needed* to move to London for accounting. She and Tom had been together since secondary school. They’d planned to marry after she finished college. Then, after graduation, Emma got him drunk and slept with him. Claimed she was pregnant—a lie. Tom married her anyway.
Alice had cried, then left town. She wasn’t aiming for Oxford or Cambridge—just needed a job. No more leaning on her parents. When the truth came out, Emma and Tom split.
“Darling, don’t let Emma back into your life. And Tom? If he forgot you that easily, he never loved you. Better now than after marriage.”
Now, listening to Emma, Alice remembered her mum’s words. At least she hadn’t mentioned James.
They’d met on the tube six months ago. Born and raised in London, his parents owned his flat but were picky about his girlfriends. They liked Alice. “Polished, dignified—rare for someone not from here,” his mum said.
After Tom, Alice hadn’t let anyone close. But with James, she’d imagined growing old together—weekends at his parents’ countryside home, kids, grandkids…
Now James was away on business till Tuesday. She hoped Emma would be gone by then.
But days passed, and Emma stayed. Probably hadn’t even looked for a flat—too busy clubbing, coming home drunk at dawn. Asleep when Alice left for work, gone when she returned. No chance to talk.
“Want me to talk to her?” James offered once.
“No, I’ll handle it,” Alice said quickly, dreading their meeting.
One evening, Alice came home to find Emma there—asleep on the sofa in *her* dress, *her* bracelet glinting on Emma’s wrist. Alice seethed. Two weeks of freeloading, now stealing her clothes.
“Emma, wake up!” She shouted. Emma mumbled but didn’t stir. “Up now, or I’ll dump water on you.”
“What’s the fuss?” Emma cracked one eye open.
“Why are you wearing my dress? My bracelet?”
“Scared I’ll stretch it?” Emma slurred.
“Those are *mine*. This isn’t working. You said you’d find a flat—”
“You’re kicking me out?” Emma sat up, suddenly coherent.
“Don’t take it wrong, but I have my own life. This flat’s too small for both of us. Take off the dress and bracelet.”
“Fine, *here*.” Emma yanked the dress off and tossed it.
Alice gasped—Emma was wearing *her* underwear too.
“This too?” Emma reached for her bra clasp.
“Keep it,” Alice snapped.
She remembered recently pulling out a blouse—it’d reeked of Emma’s perfume. She’d shrugged it off then.
“You need to leave. You said you had money. What’s the hold-up?”
“Had money. Gone now,” Emma spat, wrapping herself in Alice’s robe. “I’ll go tomorrow. Not at *night*, yeah?”
“You could’ve at least washed up. The kitchen’s a mess.” Alice scrubbed dishes angrily.
The doorbell rang. James stood there.
“What are you doing here? We agreed—”
“Came to help,” he said, eyes darting past her.
Alice turned. Emma smirked.
“This your bloke? Quiet, aren’t you? I’m Emma. Come in, handsome.”
Alice could’ve killed her.
James smiled. *He actually smiled.*
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Emma said, swaying to the kitchen, legs on full display.
She played hostess, brushing against James, stealing glances. Alice fought tears. *Again. Every man falls for her. All his sweet words—gone.*
“Have tea. I’ve got an early start,” Alice said stiffly, walking out.
She hoped he’d follow. He didn’t. She trembled with rage. She’d throw them both out, never open the door to him again. *Never!*
Emma walked in, changed into jeans and a top, dumping the bracelet beside Alice.
“James and I are off. Don’t let us keep you up.” She headed for the door.
“Alice…” James peeked in, but she didn’t turn. Tears blurred her vision.
The frontJames walked in, wrapped his arms around Alice, and whispered, “I booked her a hotel—she’s gone for good,” and for the first time in years, Alice finally felt safe.
